Wicked Blood
by KaTePiErCe
Summary: Tired of "what ifs" and always being the good girl, Lily Evans and her friends Psyche, Freedom and McKinnley decide take the twists and turns of sixth year in stride.


I was first excluded from the crowd in second year, on Halloween night, I remember it all came crashing down on me quite climatically. I was asking for help with my costume, I can't remember what it was now, but no one would listen to my calls. I grabbed the popular Donna Marsh's sleeve, for she was a cat, complete with a full bodysuit too tight and makeup too dark for a twelve-year-old, and asked her if she could help me with something or other. She gave me a dark, angry look with those brown eyes of hers and told me, with her pursed cat mouth, that my precious boyfriend would love me no matter what.

Here you would have to understand that from the very fist time I saw James Potter he has attempted to court me. Well, court makes it sound romantic and polite, which he wasn't. A better description would be that he stalked and harassed me from the very first moment his eyes met mine. He was short and wiry, with messy hair and eyes enlargened ten-fold from a bulky pair of glasses. You would think this would make him unpopular, but he had legions of fans. He had charisma, he had money and he was the smartest and the most suave of all the First Year boys.

He disgusted me, and it wasn't from lack of trying. Actually my problem was that he tried too hard. Smiling, yelling and waving at me every time he saw me in the halls. The fact was so embarrassing that I had avoided the halls altogether and did homework for Fifth Years in exchange for information on the secret passageways. James would find obnoxious ways to send me valentines, make excuses to work with me in classes and he would go to the Hogwarts library for the sole purpose of seeking me out and striking up a conversation.

I told Donna quietly that I hated him and everything he did and that I couldn't care less what he thought. She spit at me and turned away, giving me a full view of her swishing tail. I finished my costume in silence, chin trembling, and as I looked into the mirror I could only see her cold eyes staring back with malice. I was in as much terror as a twelve-year-old could fathom.

That night I sat at a table and quietly tried not to cry. Thankfully James was out dancing outrageously with his friend Sirius Black and wasn't around to ask me personal questions or try to cheer me up. I used my fork to play with a piece of pumpkin pastry and was suddenly enveloped in a cloud of lavender perfume. A girl with big brown eyes looked down at me with something akin to wonder and pulled up a chair to sit with me. This was lovely Psyche, dressed like a Greek goddess in draped cream cloth, who that night offered to let me sleep in her room along with Freedom Fields and McKinnley Watson, since they just so happened to have an extra bed.

I agreed. And it was the smartest thing I ever did. For that night we sat up late eating from a secret chocolate stash and talking in low voices about boys and girls and professors and anything and everything we had ever allowed to cross our mind. Even McKinnley, who never gave a damn, listened with her head propped on her hand and her eyes glued to us. She knew something was happening that night, like we all knew. Near the end we piled onto McKinnley's bed with giggly laughs and fell asleep in a heap as if we had done so a million times before.

We were misfits, we would never achieve the perfectly ironed hair and toned body that Donna had, we would always laugh too loud and keep the wrong company. But we were so passionate and so young and that night, before I fell asleep with my cheek pressed against Freedom's hip, I thanked James Potter, only within a fleeting moment, for the opportunity he gave me. That was the last nice thought I would have for him in a while.

The next day I boldly knocked on Professor McGonagall's office door asked for a room change.

Freedom was wild like her name suggested and she had gotten it from her parents. Her eyes were wide and her lips perpetually parted making it look like she was always in awe. Her hair was straight and sleek black, her skin pale and luminous. She was Sirius Black's object of affection and yet had no idea. I never found out where they sneaked out to those nights when he would look at her from across the common room and wink before they would leave through the portrait moments after one another. She would come back late, giggling, and would whisper bits and pieces into our ears. Sometimes she smelled like cigarettes and sometimes she smelled like Firewhiskey but she always smelled like boy and for a while we were jealous. We knew we shouldn't be because the two of them had rough lives at home. Sirius was raised by Slytherin blood-purists who believed that wizard blood was the only way. Freedom lived with her mother and received monthly letters from a father who was studying the jungles underneath Russia instead of sitting by a fireside with his daughter warning her against boys and laughing at the absurdity. She listened to her mother cry every night.

Psyche, on the other hand, cared too much for too many things. Boys and makeup and classes, somehow she balanced it all. She had chocolate milk skin, from her mixed linage and hazel eyes that were too light to be described as brown. Her hair was brown but streaked with dark gold. She was a mix, she was beautiful, but she needed to hear it. She had a need for relationships; Psyche fell in love everyday, but never with the right guy. For a month or two she would fly, then you could see signs of wear: not completing all her homework that night, sleeping in and missing breakfast, biting her nails. They were all signs for the final crash where I would wake in the middle of the night to her sniffling and throwing the door open with a bang. We would pile into her bed, even McKinnley, who, admittedly, would fall asleep almost instantaneously. She would cry and we would eat chocolate stolen from the kitchens and coo sadly as she would recount her tales of love and loss. Then we would fall asleep like the first day we met, tangled in each other. The next morning we would wake up and help her fix her hair and makeup to the point that she looked like a Veela just to show the boys that she was back on the market and loving it.

McKinnley had short blond hair and small blue eyes. She was beautiful and pureblood and could of easily risen in the Hogwarts rankings if she cared enough to do so. Which she didn't. She spent sunny days lying on the banks of the Black Lake and tanning. She spent rainy or snowy days in a tower, smoking contraband cigarettes and reading. She couldn't stand isolation for long, though, and always check in with us and spend at least half the day in our company, not contributing anything but listening and watching. McKinnley rarely talked, for she was a spectator, but when she did everyone listened for she was smart from consuming all those books. Somehow, even in her quiet ways, she had managed to snag the most attractive Ravenclaw boyfriend in Fifth Year and they had continued their relationship through Hogwarts and beyond. He was tall and a Quidditch Keeper, with broad shoulders and strong arms. Some nice days in May Psyche, Freedom and I would sit in the Gryffindor common room and watch them lay together on the shore of the Black Lake, only getting up to light a fag or to swatting away one of the Giant Squid's curious tentacles. But as they would lay there they wouldn't stop talking and the girls and I imagined all the things they could be saying. Were they ridiculous romantic thoughts or political questions or Quidditch slang or school bothers?

They were the misfits, those who were looked at oddly and whispered about, whether they knew it or not. I loved these girls the way I should have loved my muggle sister Petunia.

These girls were as far from skinny, horse faced Petunia as I believed I was from James Potter. And I loved every little flaw of theirs.

"Yet another Death Eater attack on a Muggle Village, the third one this month," Freedom read off the Daily Prophet's fifth page. It was a crime that we had to search so hard to find it.

We sat quiet for a moment in respect for the fallen muggle town, though I knew we had become desensitized sometime in sixth year. I played with my cereal and we listened to the scratch of Psyche's quill and the low roar of hundreds of voices resounding off the walls of the Great Hall.

"Hey Mickey can you read that saga that Psyche's writing for her boyfriend over there?" I asked to shatter the preoccupied silence. McKinnley shot me a glare but peeked over Psyche's shoulder and skimmed a couple sentences of the long letter she was writing.

Immediately she pulled away and mimed throwing up. Freedom and I laughed before leaning across the table and attempting to see for ourselves.

_Dear Cliff,_

_ I wish my school wasn't so far away so I could see you on weekends. I miss your voice, your hair and your smile. Though your stories are what I really want. Written down on paper they aren't as fluid as spoken by you. I miss your clarity and your passion. I miss the way you hold me in your arms…_

At that point I couldn't take it anymore and dissolved into laughter, leaning against Freedom for support. Psyche glared at us, which made us laugh harder till our sides ached with the effort.

"Are you _trying _to scare him off?" Freedom giggled recklessly. Psyche frowned sadly and read over her paper.

"What's wrong with it?" she asked quietly, fingering the edge of the paper.

"Aw honey," I said as I wiped my eyes and leaned over the table again to smooth her hair. "You've got to play hard to get, tack on the charm but don't sound needy."

Freedom snorted and pulled me back down into my seat by my waist. "Like you know all about this! Take a page from the book of Lily, charm him but don't show weakness."

The other girls laughed at me. "Play hard to get, make him need _you_," Freedom continued. "And when James asks, _don't think to give him the time of day_."

"Shut up bitch and don't bring him into this conversation!" I mock growled and pushed her slightly.

"Like hell!" she said with a maniac grin before she pushed me back. Next thing I know she whipped out her wand and I had reacted likewise.

I shot off a heavy cheering charm causing her to collapse to the ground in giggles. Through it she muttered a charm and changed my skin and hair purple. I cast boil curse and she barely dodged it. It seemed like the people in the Great Hall were cheering us on.

"Ladies!" I heard a voice cry. I managed to curse Freedom hairless before McGonagall arrived and rendered us immobile with a swipe of her wand. I took one look at Freedom and burst out laughing, breaking the professor's charm. Freedom did the same and the next thing we knew the whole hall was laughing with us. We sank to the ground and hugged each other while gasping for breath. Soon I heard Professor McGonagall's laugh join the chorus and once we regained some sort of control she let us off with a warning and told us to go to the bathroom and clean up. I had the decency to feel embarrassed, I would never of thought to fight a friend, much less in the Great Hall, last year. But that was before Voldemort, that was before there was an "if." Now I did anything I felt like, at any time, because I might never have a chance to again. Freedom's thoughts were obviously not as deep, she thanked the professor with a giant hug and kiss on the cheek, causing the already amused Great Hall to choke with laughter.

Psyche and McKinnley grabbed our bags and followed after us as we walked down the middle aisle of the Great Hall. People clapped and I caught Potter's eye to which he wolf-whistled and made me blush under my purple skin. Never to be outdone I stopped and bowed for him, giving him a wink, which made him blush in turn, though that might have been because he could see down my blouse. Whatever it was I would have to yell at him about it later.

We made it to the bathroom, sneaking around clumps of Slytherins who were dotted randomly in the Hogwarts hallways. Severus was in one of those groups along with Lucius Malfoy and for a moment I though his eyes locked onto mine, but I was relieved when they swept over me in distaste. Then again, it was probably because I was purple.

Once we made it into the bathroom our laughter began anew, because I really was purple. From my eyelids and once red hair to my toes and nails. My freckles had turned a shade of plum, much darker than my skin tone of royal purple. My eyebrows and hair were mauve and actually fairly attractive.

Freedom on the other hand was creepily repulsive. She had no eyebrows, no hair and no eyelashes. Her cheekbones looked sharp and her ears stuck out oddly.

"Oh wow," I heard while brainstorming counter curses and turned to find Freedom rubbing her legs. "They feel like silk!" We all took turns rubbing her legs and commenting on how it would be awesome if we could confine the hairless charm to work only in certain areas.

But we changed ourselves back, vowing that we would try to do a hairless-leg/armpit charm later and on a non-likeable target just incase it came out less-than-painless.

In forth and fifth years I would of never thought to stand in a Hogwarts bathroom and change my hair into a variety of shades. I would of never of thought to flick my wand and change Freedom Field's hair into a startling shade of blue. I would of probably been deep into a book and not of noticed Freedom's jab about James this morning. Or I would be sitting with Severus and glaring at anyone who interrupted our silent study time.

But that was last year, things have changed.

People have changed.


End file.
